


Boss

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-22 11:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21301295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Spock’s a decent Federation President.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 6
Kudos: 105





	Boss

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Even for a Vulcan, the stress can occasionally become too much. Spock knew it would be difficult when he first accepted the job. It was never his intention to apply, but his mother was very insistent, his father oddly supportive, and little by little, Spock’s fascinating shipboard role as ensign, then lieutenant, then straight to commander, shifted more and more into planet-bound paperwork. He was barely even a captain before he was made admiral, and then his name was in the ring and the votes were coming in. Spock is the youngest President of the United Federation of Planets in history.

And he’s not sure he wants to be.

He turns off the steady stream of data downloading to his console. He sits back in his chair, taking a moment just to breathe the crisp, fresh air of Earth, where he’s been permanently relocated. He doesn’t mind the planet itself, though he occasionally misses Vulcan, more often _the stars_. It does feel good to put his intellect to use—he appreciates all the opportunities he has to do _good_ in the universe. He likes to think that he rules with a steady, even hand, conscious of justice and never swayed by self-motivation. Occasionally, it’s thoroughly rewarding. He can see the fruits of his labour in every thriving planet. He makes the tough decisions between emotion-stricken constituents and protects all their citizens equally, as well as their worlds and environments. He receives many letters of gratitude for that. 

He also receives plenty of protests, and more notably, gets buried in a landslide of useless daily diatribe. A warring faction’s peace negotiations get sidelined for a decision on updating Starfleet uniforms. A shipment of vital medicine is delayed over a rewrite of mandated docking procedures. A court martial is held for a Tellarite captain who filled his first officer’s bed with tribbles as a ‘goof.’

And Spock has to deal with it all. Every once in a while, he has to turn that off, sink back into himself, and just mediate the nonsense away.

He’s doing that when his office door opens without the courtesy of a knock. His secretary struts inside, holding a tray out with an old fashioned tea set on it. As Jim marches across the embroidered carpet, Spock notes, “You are expected to announce your presence, Jim.”

“And you’re expected to take a break every so often,” Jim counters, a faint scolding in his voice, even though Spock was already doing precisely that. Jim serves him a steaming cup of green tea and asks, “How’s everything in the known galaxy going?”

That’s far too broad a question to be answered within the confines of their work schedule. Jim likely knows that and has chosen the colloquial term anyway, because he seems to enjoy teasing Spock almost as much as he likes weighing in on the more important decisions. He’s a valuable asset, but he’s painfully _human_.

Spock streamlines, “The Grazerite-Andorian trade talks have concluded, a growing ion storm has delayed mapping of the Helaspont Nebula, and Captain McCoy is up for his fourth court martial for violating the Prime Directive in regards to providing unsanctioned medical aid.”

“Good old Bones,” Jim laughs, like the behaviour is somehow commendable. Spock gives him a blunt look that doesn’t at all affect his smile. 

Even though, deep down, Spock doesn’t want _anything_ to affect that smile or his proximity to it, he feels compelled to note, “In the event of his dismissal, the Enterprise will require a new captain.”

For a split second, Jim’s expression wavers. Spock’s heart clenches at his side. Jim would make an excellent captain, and they both know it. But Jim recovers and chuckles, “Why, Spock, if I went to a starship, who would bring you tea?”

Literally anyone else. It isn’t a particularly difficult job. But Spock doesn’t _want_ anyone else to do it, so he nods his acceptance. Grinning wide, Jim pulls up a chair, and they discuss the rest of the universe until their tea is cold.


End file.
